


Don't Let Go

by coupe_de_foudre



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive Upgraded Connor | RK900, Touch-Starved Gavin Reed, i did but i'm just an emotional wreck, i'm sorry if anybody cries, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre
Summary: There was nobody.Gavin was hurt. Nobody cared.He scoffed. He didn't care, what did he need people for anyway?





	Don't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt given to me on Tumblr. I really hope it's okay!
> 
> Title from Leave A Light On by Tom Walker (great song, please listen to it!).
> 
> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Gavin's life had never been easy. Between growing up in a dysfunctional family - parents treasuring his brother and hardly casting a glance towards him - and struggling with school and his grades, his childhood hadn't quite been the best years of his life. Not that any years following were much better.

He remembers when he'd first moved out from home, a few months before signing up to the academy. At the time, Gavin hadn't had a clue what he wanted to do with his life – working a dead-end job, getting high most nights and days, sleep rarely coming to him. That was the lowest point of his life, for sure.

On a particularly dark night, bottle of vodka finished by himself and a couple joints already smoked, Gavin found himself staring out at the city landscape and questioning everything. His worth. His purpose. His reason for staying alive.

He didn't find any answers.

It scared him, and his hands were shaking as tears streaked down his face in silent whispers for help. He rummaged for his phone, desperate to talk to someone. Anyone.

There weren't many people that cared, though.

Thumb scrolling his contacts, vision blurred through a wall of tears, Gavin settled on his mother's number. She wouldn't be asleep; he'd moved state so they were a few hours behind him still. She'd answer.

He needed someone to just reassure him that it was all worth it.

The dial tone rang. He waited, worrying his lip between his teeth until he could taste the familiar metallic drops on his tongue. Still, the dial tone rang. He clenched and unclenched his free hand, nails scratching at the skin of his palm. It rang again. Long and empty and he held his breath.

_“We're sorry, the perso-"_

Gavin threw his phone to the floor. The automated voice was like a cold slap to his face, laughing at him with such malevolence. He wanted to scream, but he didn't find he had the energy. Stumbling back into his bedroom, he eyed the pistol tucked away on top of his wardrobe. If he could just find his stepladders...

Passing out drunk had never saved his life before now. Unfortunately, this wouldn't be the last time.

*

His first life-threatening case on the job resulted in him gaining a new scar across his face, a busted lip and what feels like either bruised or broken ribs – breath paining him with each tiny inhale. He was shaken, fighting back tears and full of adrenaline. What he really wanted was a hug, or someone to talk to. Someone to tell him that he did a good job in arresting the perp, that he put up a good fight too.

There was nobody.

He stood in the break room, TV creating enough background noise to stop him from going insane from the empty silence, a mug of coffee in his hands and nobody. Everyone was chatting happily in the bullpen, sharing what they've done for the day and checking that nobody was hurt.

Gavin was hurt. Nobody cared.

He scoffed, taking a gulp of the scalding coffee and relishing in the pain it induced. He didn't care, what did he need people for anyway?

*

Nothing much changed when, a few months later, he's admitted into hospital for the first time under a work-related injury. Bullet wound, fucking prick shot straight into his shoulder. He guessed he was lucky that it hadn't been any vital organs.

Surgery and twenty three stitches later, he woke up in an uncomfortable bed – itchy white sheets scratching at his skin and lumps in the pillow he was resting on – surrounded by bare white walls and bleeping machines. Wires hooked into him, feeding him God knows what.

A nurse smiled from his side (too fake, it made his skin crawl) when she saw that he was awake, told him to take it easy and rest. He'd be here for another few days whilst they kept a careful watch on him.

He sighed, staring up at the blank ceiling as he heard her footsteps retreat from the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Nobody came the visit him. Not for the whole three days that he was imprisoned there, alone with his murderous thoughts of self-hatred and regret. Why had he even expected anyone to come?

*

It's years after he left home and he's probably too drunk to be allowed his phone, really, but who's going to take it off of him? He's alone in his apartment, as usual.

He types in the familiar number, _‘Kamski'_ appearing across the screen. The call button is there, bright green and glaring him in the face. Challenging him.

Goading him.

He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, shutting his phone off. Why would Kamski care? He was just his low-life disappointment of a little brother. Kamski had his whole life sorted for him, probably rolling in it and happier than ever.

A bitter taste rose in Gavin's throat when he realised that their parents probably visited him, and not just at Christmas either, he bets. He hasn't seen them in years.

Tears would have fallen, had Gavin not built a wall holding them back that was so strong that even on his loneliest nights he couldn't break through it. He just shook with the shallow and strained breaths that he took, curling in on himself. He fumbled blindly for the half-finished bottle of vodka left somewhere to his right.

Kamski and him had been close at one point in their lives, young brothers playing make-believe in the house. Laughing and teasing each other. Comforting the other when they were hurt. Kamski had been his role model, his friend, his brother.

Now, who was he?

And who was Gavin to Kamski? He'd pushed him to the side when they turned 15, locking himself away in the basement to work on his stupid fucking machines. Their parents were so supportive of him and Gavin had nobody all of a sudden. Cast aside like a child's old toy.

The vodka burned his throat and he welcomed it, finishing it before passing out once again on the floor of his bedroom, unshed tears soon forgotten.

*

Tina is shouting at him, throwing her arms around wildly as she screams about how Gavin never takes care of himself. How he always pushes everyone away.

He scoffs. They pushed him away first.

“You're acting like a fucking child!” she screams at him from across his kitchen table and he clenches his fist, nails digging in until it stings.

“What the fuck do you know?” he spat, pushing down the first signs of tears. He won't cry. _He won't._

Tina lets out an exasperated huff, shaking her head and shrugging. “Yeah, Gavin, what the fuck do I know? You never tell me anything. I hardly even know you!”

She sounds upset, annoyed, and it's Gavin's fault. His only friend and he's managed to push her away too.

The thought is too much to handle and he quickly feels his control slip from his fingers – emotions building up against his wall and pushing, pushing, pushing. Slamming a hand down onto the table, he snarls at her. He doesn't mean to; he wants to wrap her in a hug and apologizing for being such a fuck up. He can't though.

“You don't need to know me.” His voice is wavering, he frowns.

Tina sighs, and she goes to take a step closer to him but he pushes her back, hand on her shoulder and retreating immediately as though the contact burned him. In a way, it did.

“Get to fuck out.”

“Gavin, I-"

“Out. Now! I don't want you in my fucking apartment!” he interrupts her. Lies, it's all lies. She doesn't know that.

Her eyes are watering as she bites her lip. He crosses his arms and stands his ground, breath coming quicker than normal.

Seeing that he's not going to give in, Tina sighs and snatches her bag from the table. Turning away and leaving the apartment without a second glance back at him. When the door slams behind her, it's like any warmth and light suddenly slipped out from the apartment and he's back in the cold, heartless place he calls home.

He growls, emotions rising increasingly fast. His nails have broken through the skin of his palm, blood staining them. He doesn't bother unclenching his fist.

The sadness is overwhelming and all too strong. It's rising up inside him, twisting through his veins and sneaking past his bones. Seeping through him like a deadly disease. It feels awful. It's similar to the acidic burning of bile, building up in his throat and it hurts so fucking much. He collapses to the kitchen tiles with a broken thud, head dropping to his knees as his body wracks with tearless sobs. He can't cry. He won't cry.

The sounds he makes sound much like crying, however. Maybe there's no tears, but he's sobbing harder than he remembers doing for a long time. Dry cries ripping his throat apart.

At least nobody is here to see it.

*

The bitter coldness of the November night – or morning, since it's definitely gone 2am now – bites at his bare skin as he leans over the balcony of his apartment. A cigarette balances between his fingers, end a blinding heat of orange. He takes along drag whilst staring up at the blanket of navy and black above him. The stars are invisible, city lights burning them out.

He feels quite like that too.

The numbing cold is comforting and familiar – silencing his violent thoughts for long enough that he might be able to ignore them. They're damaging, he knows that. He can't stop them forever, though.

Warm arms suddenly snake around his waist and he jumps, only relaxing as dry lips press a kiss to his shoulder and a weighty heat pushes against his back. The tension immediately seeps from his body and he can't help the contented sigh that escapes him when he releases another puff of cigarette smoke into the night air. His eyes slip closed, listening to the peaceful quiet around them.

Neither of them speak. It's nice. He leans into his boyfriend and smiles to himself.

Nines seems to make a move to leave, pulling away and arms slipping from his waist. Gavin stops him, free hand grabbing at Nines' own and holding them in place against his stomach.

“I don't want to be alone right now.” He whispers, scared.

Nines tightens his hold around him, a fleeting kiss brushed over his cheek. “Okay,” he says. And then the android is nestling his face into the crook of Gavin's shoulder, peppering tiny kisses to his neck and just holding him close. He can feel the rise and fall of Nines' chest with his own, a reassuring reminder that he isn't alone. Not tonight.

A smile works its way over his lips as he tilts his head to rest it on top of Nines' own, eyes still closed and skin prickling from the cold air but Nines is here and he's warm enough to stop him from freezing.

Gavin finds that he is glad to be alive. Perhaps for the first time in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> All prompts welcomed!!
> 
> Love you guys x


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